We walk unseen among you. We possess both “Y” chromosomes and knitting needles. We’re equally at home in a yarn shop and a gentleman’s club. When admiring exceptional décolletage, we may find ourselves distracted by the softness of a mohair sweater as it clings to the complex curves of your bust. If we ask to touch that delicate fabric, rest assured we do want to experience the fabric. But that probably isn’t all we want to touch. We are men. We love women. And we knit.

Sunday, November 24, 2013

I like writing. I
like telling stories. And I like being
able to connect with people all over the world.
Seriously, I’m occasionally floored by where some of my readers
live. (Who knew there was any interest
in male knitters in Latvia?) Without the Internet, the likelihood that I’d ever
come into contact with folks living so far away is pretty slim – so I’m
grateful for the chance.

But those are fairly controlled interactions. Sure, I’ve gotten a nasty email or comment or
two (or more) in response to these posts.
But the overall response has been really positive. No, when I say “social media” I mean places
like MyBook and FaceSpace and similar sites.
If one could graph the number and frequency of hurtful things said or
written during the course of humanity, my guess would be that we would see
exponential growth in vitriol during the last little bit – most of which has
been spilled by fingers on keyboards.

I’m certainly not immune.
There have been many times when my fingers have let loose with words
which, on reflection, I wished I had not written.

I do find one aspect of these comments interesting,
though. They can help you get outside your comfort zone. Let me explain.

Growing up in the southeastern U.S., I often felt like I was
one of the most liberal people I knew. For
example, never once did I have an urge to pay homage to the confederacy. As a transplant to the uber-liberal pacific
northwest, I now feel like I’m one of the most conservative people I know. Never once have I had to stifle the urge to
buy a Prius.

All this is a way of saying I occasionally feel like a bit
of an outsider in each of those camps. FaceSpace
has a way of reinforcing those feelings.
I log on, and am immediately greeted by the railing posts of high school
classmates who remain convinced our President was born in Kenya. Simultaneous posts from local friends suggest
that multinational corporations are purposefully killing their own consumers
for the sake of profit. I confess that I don't understand either extreme.

More than once I’ve been tempted to block these messages. In fact, I’ve gone in on occasion to see if I
can figure out how to navigate the settings of the site to block the most
virulent of these folks – only to be stymied by my complete and utter lack of
understanding as to how those privacy and user settings are configured. So on they stay.

And on reflection, that might actually be a
good thing. Being forced to hear the
opinions of others, especially of others with whom one doesn’t agree, is
probably a net positive. If I became too
insulated – started for example listening only to the opinions of my pacific
northwestern brethren – there’s a decent chance I could start wearing
Birkenstocks year round, making my own yogurt and rallying for the rights of
salmon.

Of course, the right amount of insulation can also be a good
thing. To that end, I’ve been working on
a warm scarf for my middle son. He
picked out the colors (and proudly gave me the yarn). He doesn’t know it yet, but it will be a
Christmas present.

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About Me

Lawyer by day, knitter by night, husband, father and poet throughout. The Straight Male Knitter ("TSMK") lives on Bainbridge Island, Washington with his wife, three sons and assorted pets. When not otherwise occupied, TSMK enjoys single malt scotch, fine cigars, vintage straight razors and Italian motorcycles (not all at once).